


I can't feel my face when I'm with you

by Charlielinnea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anaphylaxis, Cake flavoured protein bars, Fluff, Greg is Sweet, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, John is a Saint, M/M, Mycroft is a Softie, Pet Names, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is a Brat, Yoga makes you flexible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22409689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlielinnea/pseuds/Charlielinnea
Summary: Mycroft surprises Greg at a crime scene, Sherlock is doing weird stuff as always and it all ends with a medical emergency and an unexpected hero to save the day.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 25
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this piece of writing happened! I wrote it on my mobile in the middle of the night and it's not proofread or anything, but I hope you like it. 
> 
> Apparently I have a thing for using song lyrics as titles for my fics, this one is of course from "Can't feel my face" by The Weeknd. Happy reading!

It always seemed to be raining at the crime scenes. Logically, statistically, realistically, that wasn't true of course, but the rain sure was pouring down on this particular evening.

The consulting detective himself had arrived on the scene a few minutes earlier, with his doctor in tow, and was now crawling around on all fours, while… licking the ground? Or just sniffing it? Greg raised his eyebrows but couldn't be arsed wasting any energy on trying to make Sherlock behave himself, God knows he had done that for years already. 

He was listening to an update from Sally when, in the corner of his eye, he saw a black car with tinted windows quietly approaching them. A familiar heat immediately made itself known in the lower parts of his stomach, and he turned his back to the car and tried very hard to concentrate on what Sally was saying. 

This certainly wasn't the time to think about what he had been up to the night before. Or four nights prior. Or at that lunch meeting at the Diogenes Club last week. 

_ Someone was moaning, at this point he wasn't sure if it was him or the other man who made noise, but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered at the moment was the long, slender fingers unbuttoning his shirt and stroking the skin underneath. The soft, warm lips against his own, eagerly tasting, nipping, biting… His trousers were too tight, he had to let go of the other man's arse for a second to unbuckle his belt…  _

"Boss!" 

"What?" 

"I don't know where you've gone off to in that strange little brain of yours, but I was trying to ask you what you want me to do with the witness statements that the new sergeant obviously messed up?" 

"Right. Right. Uh, I guess you'd better make the rounds again then, and ask some relevant questions this time. You should bring sergeant Coleman with you, maybe he'll learn something this time around…"

"I doubt it, boss," she muttered under her breath. "Visitor for you," she continued with a knowing look before she took her pen and notepad over to the group of onlookers on the other side of the yellow tape. 

Greg didn't have time to turn around before a smooth voice greeted him, just a little too close to his ear than strictly necessary. 

"Detective Inspector… when are you going to start bringing an umbrella to your crime scenes?" said Mycroft as he came close enough to cover them both with his own umbrella. 

"I'd much rather take cover under yours than having to bring my own brolly everywhere," Greg replied and grinned. "Didn't expect to see you so soon again after last night." 

"Mm. As it happens, my phone conference with China was cancelled last minute, so I find myself free for the evening." He took out a packet of cigarettes from his coat pocket and offered one to Greg. 

"And you had nothing better to do than to come and interrupt my crime scene? I'm a busy man, Mycroft, can't have my boyfriend running around here while I'm trying to work," Greg teased him, still not able to wipe the grin off his face. He leaned forward a bit to allow Mycroft to light his cigarette. "Thanks for last night by the way, it was incredible… Still can't believe that yoga makes you that flexible." 

"Hush now, we're in public," Mycroft said with a glint in his eye. "And I wasn't aware we were… 'boyfriends'." 

"Oh come on now, I know you're head over heels for me, don't pretend otherwise. Should I go with a fancier term to suit you better?" He snickered and brushed some invisible dirt off the front of Mycroft's coat. "My suitor? My intended? My cute little sweetie pie?" 

"Most certainly none of those, you rascal," the other man replied, half-amused and half-disgusted. "Partner is fine. Although it will be 'ex-partner' soon if you don't immediately cease your attempt of seducing me in public." 

"I'm not doing anything!" Greg protested, raising his hands in front of him. 

"You're thinking dirty thoughts and I know it," Mycroft said in a low voice that went straight to Greg's groin. "So distracting…" 

"Well, I can't help that you're some bloody mind-reader. We should bring those supernatural abilities of yours into the bedroom at some point, might be fun," he replied and chuckled. "Hey, as much as I'd love to stay under your umbrella and let you read my mind all night, I should probably get back to work. As soon as your little brother is done with…" 

They both turned and stared at Sherlock who was now hanging from below a balcony two storeys above the ground, rapidly firing off deductions and observations to John who was standing underneath him taking notes. 

"...whatever the hell he is doing," Greg continued, "we might be able to wrap this up for tonight. My place or your place?"

"Your place. I'll wait for you there, if you don't mind?"

"You have the keys and a standing invitation, go for it," Greg said and smiled. "God, I wish I could kiss you." 

"Me too, Gregory, me too. Although that might be what it takes for Sherlock to finally figure this out, it's most uncharacteristic for him to be so slow." 

"He might be a genius, Mycroft, but emotions are really not his thing. He probably doesn't even think it possible that we could be together, that's why he doesn't see all the obvious signs…"

"We are definitely in for a treat the day he realises," Mycroft muttered. 

"Don't worry about it. He'll get around. Now off you go, I have work to do!" 

"Very well, Gregory. I must go and have a word with said genius before I leave. Until later." 

"Bye sweetie pie," Greg said and grinned at the other man's responding eye roll. 


	2. Chapter 2

The rain had turned into a light drizzling, and Greg was leaving his wet gloves and hat in the boot of the patrol car, when he suddenly heard Sally shouting his name. 

“Greg! Get over here right now!” 

He looked up, perplexed, turning towards the sound of her voice. She had her phone pressed to her ear and was standing next to Mycroft’s car. There seemed to be a commotion of some sort going on behind it. He jogged over there, still with a confused frown on his face. 

“What’s going on, Sal?”

“Sherlock’s brother — Ah yes, I need an ambulance straight away to Pollen Street in Mayfair…” 

Greg didn’t wait around to hear what else she said into the phone, but hurried to the other side of the car only to find Mycroft on his knees on the ground. John was crouching next to him, rapidly removing the other man’s tie and carelessly throwing it aside. Next to them, Sherlock was pacing and wringing his hands. 

“Mycroft!” Greg gasped and kneeled in front of him, grabbing his shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“Can’t… breathe,” the other man wheezed. 

“Darling, we’ll sort you out, don’t worry,” he replied, trying not to panic. “Sherlock, tell me everything that happened since Mycroft got over here or I swear to God I will kill you slowly with my own hands,” he growled while he pushed Mycroft’s shaking hands aside and took over the task of unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. 

“I give you my word, Lestrade, I don’t know. I gave him something to eat and the next minute he got all red in the face and couldn’t breathe…” Sherlock was white as a sheet. 

“So you poisoned him you daft git?” Greg said and briefly turned to glare at the detective. 

“No, of course not! I was just… uh, I gave him one of those protein bar thingies and the flavour was ‘birthday cake’ so I didn’t even think he would eat it, he doesn’t like it when I tease him about — anyway, he just laughed at me and said he was going to exercise tonight anyway. And he ate it! And then he couldn’t breathe!”

“You’re an idiot, Sherlock,” Greg said, feeling almost as calm as he sounded now when he knew what the problem was. “Mycroft, honey, you’re having an allergic reaction. I’m going to give you an injection in your thigh, alright love?”

Mycroft had given up on talking and merely nodded, his eyes wide and his face an alarming shade of red. Greg reached for his EpiPen in the inner pocket of his coat, and pushed it down onto Mycroft’s thigh, through expensive wool trousers and all. He counted slowly to three, and then withdrew the needle. 

“Let’s get you a bit more comfortable,” he said and removed his coat and put it on the ground. Then he maneuvered the politician to sit on top of the coat and sat down next to him. “Where’s that ambulance, Sally?” he said without taking his eyes off Mycroft. 

“On it’s way sir, they said 5 minutes at the most”, came the quick reply. 

“Alright then. Feeling better, love?” He reached out and wiped Mycroft’s forehead from rain and sweat. 

“Yes, thank you,” Mycroft replied weakly. “I’m glad you were around…”

“So am I,” Greg said and grinned. “You’ll be alright babe, but you should probably go with the ambulance and get checked out at the hospital just in case.”

“Yes, you most definitely should!” John interjected. “Mate, I had no idea you carried an EpiPen. What are you allergic to?”

“Nevermind what he’s allergic to!” Sherlock shrieked. “Why is he calling Mycroft all those pet names!?” 

“Oh Sherlock,” Greg replied and chortled. “We were going to tell you…”

“Tell me what! That you have both lost your minds and commenced some kind of romantic relationship?” Sherlock had stopped pacing and just stared at the pair sitting on the ground in front of him. “Why!?”

“Much for the same reason you and the dear doctor are constantly shagging each other senseless, brother mine,” Mycroft said and snorted. 

“Uh, hang on, that’s not… That wasn’t supposed to be official,” a flustered John muttered. Greg shot him an amused look. 

“Oh no, I can not accept this. You always take everything that’s mine, Mycroft!”

“Shut up Sherlock,” Greg said and wrapped an arm around Mycroft’s shoulders. “First of all, I’m not ‘yours’ in any shape or form, and secondly, Mycroft can do what he wants without asking your permission. I’m surprised it took you so long to find out, actually.” 

“What do you mean? Clearly this is a new thing, judging by the look of your coat and Mycroft’s new tie, I’d say it has only gone on for…” 

Greg grabbed Mycroft’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. 

“FIVE MONTHS!” Sherlock screeched. “This is unacceptable —”

“Oh shut your face!” John had finally recovered from his earlier embarrassment and efficiently silenced the detective with a well placed elbow in the ribs. “I’m happy for you guys, a bit surprised maybe, but… yeah, wow. When’s the wedding?”

“We were thinking sometime in May,” Greg said with an impressively straight face, earning himself a surprised look not only from John but also from Mycroft, who was fairly sure that they had not discussed any kind of wedding plans yet. 

“Oh for God’s sake!” Sherlock muttered and stomped off. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes the last chapter! This is really just a silly, fluffy story with no purpose other than maybe putting a smile on your faces. I hope you liked it :)

It took some well chosen swearwords and a quick flash of his badge before the paramedics let Greg accompany Mycroft in the ambulance. Despite the politician’s insistence that he was  _ certainly well enough to sit up on my own, god damn it!  _ they had put him on the stretcher, although they had at least allowed him to raise the back of the stretcher and half-sit on it. Greg had been assigned the observer’s seat, and had to hold onto to the stretcher to not fall off every time they took a turn. 

“This is undignified”, Mycroft muttered and glared at Greg. 

“Are you not enjoying the ride?” he smiled. “It could be a lot worse, you know…” 

“Yes, I suppose,” the politician acknowledged and turned serious. “I’m glad you were around, or I would not be alive.”

“Oh darling, I’m glad too. You have no idea. I’m sorry your fancy trousers are ruined, I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“You can’t afford it, but thank you anyway,” Mycroft replied and laughed at the police man’s mock-hurt expression. “You never told me you were allergic. I could have accidentally poisoned you while cooking dinner.”

“I don’t think so love, I’m allergic to bees,” Greg snorted. 

“Sherlock will be distressed to hear that,” the other man remarked dryly. 

“Yeah, we should probably let him recover from today’s shock before dropping the next bomb,” he replied and laughed. “He’ll get over it though, both the fact that I’m allergic to bees and that I’m in love with his brother.”

“Gregory,” Mycroft said and hesitated. “You probably know this already, but I’ve grown quite attached to you over these past few months. I care for you deeply, and… And I love you.” He swallowed nervously and looked up at Greg, who was grinning so hard his face was hurting. 

“I know darling, you’re not the only one around with some deducing skills. And I love you, too.” 

He reached out to intertwine his fingers with Mycroft’s, and they sat in silence for a bit. 

“About what I said to John about our wedding plans,” Greg said, suddenly feeling an urge to explain himself, “it was just a joke. I mean… No pressure, love, I know we haven’t been going at this for a very long time and I was just teasing and —”

“A spring wedding will be delightful,” Mycroft said decisively and smiled at him. 

Greg’s squeal of joy was masked by the sound of the ambulance doors opening, but the look on his face was one Mycroft would carry with him for the rest of his life. 

  
  


Meanwhile at Baker Street John took the stairs two steps at a time and pretended not to hear the stream of complaints from Sherlock who was following him upstairs. 

“Knock it off Sherlock,” he said as he took his coat off and flung it over the sofa. “You should be happy for them.”

“No John, I have no desire to be happy for them! Also, what kind of high-functioning sociopath am I if I can’t even notice that my own brother is shagging my DI right under my nose?”

At this, John actually had to laugh out loud. He walked over to Sherlock and cupped his face in his hands, caressing a ridiculously defined cheekbone with his thumb. 

“Greg is not ‘your DI’, pet. They deserve to be happy, and if being together is what makes that happen, then leave them be. I’m sure you’ll make a great best man when it’s time for that. And, you are the best high-functioning sociopath and detective there has ever been. Even better, you are  _ my _ detective, and if you could just stop thinking about your brother and Greg for a minute, we could make much better use of our time.” 

“Joooohn,” Sherlock whined, but stopped abruptly when John suddenly leaned forward and nibbled on his earlobe. “Oh,” he breathed. 

“That’s right you silly man, I can think of at least ten more enjoyable things to do.”

“Bedroom, now,” Sherlock groaned and almost stumbled in his frenzy to remove coat, shirt and trousers all at once. 

They were both way too busy to notice how Sherlock’s phone lit up with an incoming text message. 

_ Brother dear, I never got the opportunity to thank you for the birthday cake flavoured protein bar. It was a once-in-a-lifetime snack, truly. I’ll make sure to get rid of the excess calories tonight, Greg has promised to join me for my… workout. He says to tell John that the two of them should start a support group, ‘Keeping up with the Holmes’. I have no idea what he means by that. -MH _


End file.
